


Lockdown

by HouseOfVennexheri



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, lockdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseOfVennexheri/pseuds/HouseOfVennexheri
Summary: A virus is sweeping King's Landing and Brienne gets stuck in lockdown with her best friend's annoying older brother.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 30
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfic and I haven't written much of anything for a long time either so this will be something of an experiment! But I really like these characters and thought it would be interesting to play with them during a lockdown setting.
> 
> I've pinched some dialogue from the show and wedged it in here. UK readers may also find the prime minister's speech to be somewhat familiar. Not really sure how crediting works, but to be on the safe side, am acknowledging BoJo's speech writers!
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe :)

Brrring!

There was a sharp ring on the doorbell. Brienne wasn’t expecting anyone and she waited for Tyrion to answer before remembering he had gone out to see his girlfriend. Not that that was a good idea in Brienne’s view. With the virus sweeping the country, it was better to stay home and not run the risk of catching anything.

She hauled herself off the sofa and went to open the door.

“Hey, wench!”

Brienne groaned inwardly. It was Tyrion’s arse of an older brother Jaime.

“Tyrion’s not in,” she said shortly.

“He told me he’d be back soon. Can I come in?”

Reluctantly, Brienne stepped back and led him into the sitting room of the small, two-bed flat she shared with her old university friend.   
“Make yourself at home,’ she said, more out of good manners than goodwill, gesturing at the armchair, before she turned her attention back to the television.

Brienne wanted to like Jaime. She really did. At uni, Tyrion had waxed lyrical about his brave and kind older brother and the first time Brienne met him, she had felt her jaw literally drop at his toned figure, wavy golden locks and chiselled features. A fact she was sure had not escaped his notice. But Jaime was dismissive when introduced and barely gave her a second glance. Later she had headed to Tyrion’s room in halls to meet them for some pre-drinking before Tyrion took his brother to the student union club night. The door had been ajar and she overheard their conversation.

“Hurry up, Jaime, Brienne will be here in a minute!”  
“Tyrion, she isn’t your girlfriend, is she?”

Brienne had groaned inwardly at that - people were always assuming it about the two of them, why did people always have to leap to the conclusion that two people of the opposite sex couldn’t be friends? It seemed very childish.

“No, we’re not really each other’s type.”  
“Well, that makes sense. She’s a lot manlier than the girls you normally chase. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman so big! Or ugly”  
“Jaime, that’s - “ Tyrion had begun when Brienne, face burning and remembering that the proverbial eavesdropper never hears anything good about themselves (which truly seemed to be the case here) knocked, loudly announcing her presence.

She opened the door to reveal Jaime pulling on a red shirt and buttoning it up over a lean, tanned torso. Beyond a curt nod, she pointedly ignored him, instead asking Tyrion what they had gotten up to that afternoon as he handed her a beer. 

Brienne knew that she looked somewhat...unusual. At 6 foot 3, with a muscular physique, she was built for sport and she was good at it, being the star player of the university girls’ rugby team. It had however, unfortunately landed her with a nose broken in multiple places which hadn’t improved what had always been considered to be something of a plain face. If truth be told, she was used to words like ‘manly’ and ‘ugly’ being tossed around in her vicinity.

She knew that Jaime’s comments ought not to have bothered her so much but she had been looking forward to meeting him after everything Tyrion had told her. Tyrion was a little person and she knew that their being friends caused some of the less enlightened people on campus much merriment. She had thought that having a brother who was different would have made Jaime more accepting of other people who didn’t fit the usual mould and she was disappointed that he turned out to be just like most of the other jerky guys she had met.

Later that night, manoeuvring a rat-arsed Tyrion back to halls, Jaime attempted conversation. Brienne, exhausted, head a bit fuzzy from the booze and still feeling wrong-footed by what she had heard earlier, had not felt in the mood for small talk.   
“So, where are you from?”  
“Tarth.”  
An awkward pause.  
“I live in King’s Landing”.  
More silence.  
“Do you know how long it’s going to take to get back?”  
“Yes.”  
“So how shall we pass the time?”  
“By putting one foot in front of the other.”  
“It’s going to be a very dull walk.”  
“I’m here to help Tyrion get home safely. Dull is fine.”  
“Well, it makes for a very boring walk...you know, it doesn’t matter how loyal a friend you are. No one enjoys the company of a humourless mute.”

Before she could retaliate to this unprecedented vitriolic and frankly hurtful comment, Tyrion chose that moment to surface out of his drunken stupor to proclaim “Brienne’s the besht friend in the world!” throwing his arms around her legs and almost felling her in the process. Despite struggling to keep her balance, she couldn’t help feeling smug and cast an arch look at her other companion.  
“Alright, alright, come on…,” Jaime muttered, prising Tyrion’s hands away and pushing him gently forward.  
“I bet your siblings don’t give you this much trouble, do they? Do you have any brothers and sisters?”  
As a matter of fact, Brienne did have a brother. Or rather, had had a brother, who had drowned when she was much younger. A fact she didn’t feel like sharing.  
But Jaime was clearly in a talkative mood.  
“Come on, it’s still a fair way til we get back. We might as well get to know each other.” He snickered as a sudden thought occurred to him.  
“Have you known many men? I suppose not. Women?”   
She rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had assumed she was a lesbian. After all, a good portion of the girls on her rugby team were.   
“Horses?” he spluttered with laughter. Clearly, Jaime was not entirely sober either.  
“What?” She eventually turned to glare at him, while he laughed uproariously at his own joke.

After that, they’d mostly stayed out of each other’s way, with Brienne maintaining a pointedly polite distance when he came to visit and finding reasons to be busy whenever Tyrion planned a night out that would include all three of them.

Fast-forward several years and Tyrion had moved to King’s Landing to become a lawyer while Brienne had landed herself a job as a software developer in the city’s start up hub on the Street of Steel. Becoming flatmates had seemed an obvious and sensible plan. Admittedly, Tyrion was something of a slob. And Brienne had a bad habit of absent-mindedly putting the tea back on the higher shelves that Tyrion couldn’t reach. But by and large, they’d weathered the awkward transition from friend to flat mate pretty well. The only major thorn in Brienne’s side was the frequent presence of Jaime Lannister, who, now she could not so easily avoid him, had fallen into an annoyingly teasing way of talking to her and started to nickname her ‘Wench’, of all things, inspired by a Medieval fayre the two brothers had visited one drunken evening.

“So, this virus, huh? I bet our sensible wench is all prepared, eh?

She rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. She was most definitely worried. The virus had started in a small province in Yi Ti and was characterised by a fever, dry cough and shortness of breath. The death rate there had been alarming and it had steadily spread throughout the Known World until it reached King’s Landing. The number of confirmed cases was as yet small but the high chance of contagion had everyone on edge, stockpiling loo roll and pasta and keeping a wary distance from each other in the supermarket. 

They watched TV in silence for a while. It was one of Brienne’s favourite shows and she was frankly a bit miffed that she’d missed a scene whilst answering the door. It was a medieval drama, full of dragons and knights and lots of sword fights. She’d always longed to hold a sword. She suspected she’d be rather good at it.

Without warning, the picture disappeared from the screen to be replaced by a solemn looking newsreader.

“We are afraid that we must interrupt this broadcast in order to bring you a message from our prime minister.”

Jaime and Brienne shot each other nervous glances as the picture was replaced yet again, this time with a shot of Robert Baratheon with a worried expression on his face, standing in front of the Great Sept of Baelor.

“People of King’s Landing, as you are no doubt well aware, the virus that began in Yi Ti and is known as Disease of the Crown has spread to our city. What you may not be aware of is that the number of confirmed cases has been increasing by the hour and we are now declaring a crisis situation. From this evening I must give the people of King’s Landing a very simple instruction - you must stay at home.  
Because the critical thing we must do is stop the disease spreading between households.  
You should not be meeting friends. If your friends ask you to meet, you should say No.  
You should not be meeting family members who do not live in your home.  
You should not be going shopping  
This is effective immediately and will be enforced for at least the next two weeks. Leaving your residence for any reason is strictly prohibited and will be severely punished.   
If you don’t follow the rules the police will have the powers to enforce them.   
No Prime Minister wants to enact measures like this.  
But at present there are just no easy options. The way ahead is hard, and it is still true that many lives will sadly be lost.  
And yet it is also true that there is a clear way through.  
I want to thank everyone who is working flat out to beat the virus.  
But in this fight we can be in no doubt that each and every one of us is directly enlisted.  
Each and every one of us is now obliged to join together.  
To halt the spread of this disease.  
The people of this city will rise to that challenge.  
And we will come through it stronger than ever.  
We will beat the Disease of the Crown and we will beat it together”

“What a tosspot.”  
Brienne’s attention was dragged away from the television to the sneer on Jaime’s face.  
At her aghast look, he looked rather sheepish.  
“Well, he is,” he muttered, somewhat petulantly. “All that “we will beat it together” bollocks - it’s not like he’ll be out nursing the sick or developing a cure.”

But Brienne wasn’t listening. Something had suddenly percolated through her consciousness.  
“You have to leave. Now!”  
“Well, that’s rather ungracious.”  
“No, listen - they said the lockdown is effective immediately. But if you go now, you can probably make it back before any patrols start. Otherwise you’ll have to stay here for two weeks.”  
“Wench, even if they do catch me, what are they going to do?” Jaime snorted. “Fine me and tell me to go home? But still’, he continued, unfolding himself elegantly from the sofa. “I can see you don’t want me here, so I’ll vamoose.”  
“That’s not what - “   
But he had already gone, leaving her feeling guilty and uncomfortable. It was true, she didn’t particularly enjoy having him around but that hadn’t been her motivation. Angrily, she thought that Jaime should have been able to see that. Besides, it’s not like he would want to wind up in lockdown with her for two weeks either.  
She turned back to the TV which had resumed the show she was playing earlier, though she wasn’t really feeling in the mood for it anymore. She zapped it off. She could watch it on catch up later.  
The whole situation was weird. In one way, it didn’t feel like anything had changed. She was at home, alone, just as she had been earlier that evening. She didn’t feel any different. But on the other hand, there was something big, something serious and scary happening. Something she had no control over.  
At this point in her musings, she decided to take a shower. It always cleared her head and made her feel better. Just as she was about to turn it on, however, the doorbell went for the second time that evening.  
Tyrion must have forgotten his key, she thought, wrapping a bathrobe around her. It was only as the door started to swing open that she realised - Tyrion can’t reach the bell.   
It was Jaime, standing on the doorstep, dripping blood.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime walked briskly down the street. He wondered if the tubes would still be running. He hoped so, otherwise it would be a long walk. Okay, so the prime minister had said the lockdown would be effective immediately but surely there would be some kind of grace period to allow people such as himself to get back home. Besides, what about those who hadn’t been at home when the announcement had been broadcast? Some folks probably hadn’t even heard the news yet.

The streets around Tyrion’s flat were very quiet. Unusual for this time of the evening. Normally, there would be the odd straggler coming home late from a day in the office or from meeting friends for drinks. Perhaps more people had seen the broadcast than he had realised. Or maybe they had just been nervous about the disease, cancelled their plans and hurried home. 

It was a pity Tyrion had been out when he had called. He had been looking forward to catching up with his little brother and now it looked like he wouldn’t see him for the next two weeks. Of course, he could call but it wasn’t the same. Jaime wasn’t a big fan of talking on phones. It was harder to connect with someone than meeting them face to face. Plus he realised he would be feeling lonely. Jaime lived in a very nice, spacious, beautifully-decorated flat, complete with balcony, garden, open plan kitchen and walk-in shower. But he lived by himself which wasn’t normally a problem, but then again, he normally wasn’t forbidden to leave his home.

He rounded a corner onto the road which would take him to the main street and was startled to see a number of people pelting towards him - two almost upon him and a group of three following close behind.  
“Run!” one of them shouted at him as he sprinted past.  
Well, that was bizarre. He approached cautiously. Up ahead he could see flashing lights and could hear sirens. As he got closer, he could also hear a megaphone.  
“We are in a lockdown situation. Everyone to go home immediately.”  
Oh. Well, that was nothing new. He was on his way home anyway. He turned the corner and found his way immediately blocked by a watchman in full riot gear.  
“Stay back! Turn around and go home,” the man shouted.  
“Look, yeah, sorry mate, but actually -”  
“No arguments! Go home!”  
“Right, yeah, that’s the thing, I’m -”  
“One more step and I’ll shoot!”  
Jaime rolled his eyes. Fucking jobsworth. Fine, he could play this one out. He raised his hands in submission and gave his best look-we’re-all-mates-together conspiratorial grin.  
“No need for that, mate. I’m going home.”  
The cop visibly relaxed and lowered the gun he was holding.  
“Unfortunately my home is - “ he gestured awkwardly with his raised hands “over there”.  
Realisation dawned but the watchman still seemed torn.  
“I’m not supposed to let anyone through!”  
“Look, the government has told us all to stay home, right? And that’s what I intend to do. But I have to get there first, y’see.”  
Taking advantage of the conflicted expression on the watchman’s face, he started trying to move beyond him.  
“So, if I can just get past - aargh!”  
Suddenly he felt a white hot pain in his right hand. As he looked down, he saw blood starting to gush from his fingers.  
“Consider that a warning shot,” snarled a fat guard with a Dothraki accent, heading toward him from a few metres away. “If you go one step further, the next bullet will be in your skull. And get away from my colleague! You could be infecting him!”  
With the gun levelled directly at his forehead, Jaime had no choice but to obey. Very slowly, very carefully, keeping his eyes on the man with the gun, he backed away, round the corner and, cradling his hand close to his body, hurried back toward Tyrion’s place.  
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck was going on? Why were the police acting like they had lost their minds? And what the hell was he going to do about his hand?  
Fortunately, the flat wasn’t too far away and so he managed to get himself there before losing too much blood and turning weak.  
When Brienne opened the door, he barely gave her a second glance, didn’t even wait to be invited in, but just pushed past her into the kitchen, trailing blood all over the sitting room carpet on his way through as he reached for kitchen roll to staunch the bleeding.  
“Oh my God, what happened?’  
“Turns out...they really meant it about the watch having the powers to enforce staying at home.”  
“What - the watch did this to you?”  
“Yes!”  
Jaime winced. Now he was inside and safe, he was starting to really feel the pain throbbing with every beat of his heart. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead, as the blood started to drain away and it was all he could do not to keel over on the cheap lino.  
“Ok, come on now.” Brienne, clocking his chalky face, took him by his good arm and gently lowered him to the floor, so that his back was to the cabinets and feet braced against the opposite wall in the narrow kitchen.  
“Put your head between your knees.”  
He did as he was told, feeling a certain amount of relief that she had decided to take charge of the situation.  
Or so he thought. When he turned his head to glimpse her, he realised she was looking avidly at her phone. Bizarrely he felt abandoned. Shouldn’t her focus be completely on him?  
“Uh, wench,” he got out through gritted teeth. “Now’s not the time to be checking your social media feed.”  
“I’m looking up how to treat a bullet wound, you total arse,” she muttered. Her eyes flickered over the screen as she scanned it for the main points, then she put the phone down and took his arm.  
“Let me see.” She carefully pulled the kitchen roll away and checked over the injury. It seemed the bullet had gone right through the centre of his palm and exited. He was lucky it hadn’t been a few inches further down and gone through his wrist. It was still bleeding rather a lot though.  
“Ok, so we’re going to apply some pressure and we’re going to raise it above your heart level, alright?”  
She grabbed more kitchen roll, wrapped it securely round the wound and kneeling up, raised his arm above his head, keeping both hands on it for more pressure.  
“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. Just fine.” Her calm voice was soothing and he found he believed her, despite the throbbing.  
They stayed like that for a while, he wasn’t quite sure how long. Maybe 5 minutes, maybe 10 or 15. After a bit, he started feeling less shaky and he raised his head.  
“How are we doing?”  
He saw Brienne cautiously remove some of the kitchen roll and examine his hand.  
“Better, I think, the bleeding seems to have slowed. Can you keep your hand up like that for me and put pressure on with your other hand? I’m going to run and get some stuff so we can dress this wound.  
She ran off and returned presently with some antiseptic wipes, a dressing and gauze.  
She knelt beside him again and began the process of cleaning the wound.  
“Did you just happen to have that lying around?”  
“I’m the first aider for my rugby team.”  
“So why did you have to google how to deal with a gunshot wound?”  
“Someone’s certainly feeling better…” she rolled her eyes. “Because, Mr Smarty Pants. my training did not involve treating gunshot wounds. They don’t typically happen on a rugby pitch.”  
He looked down. And that was when he became aware that she was only wearing a dressing gown. A very short dressing gown. A dressing gown that was only held together with a tie around her middle and therefore meant that where the material met at the front, there was a very distracting V shape, leading up towards her body, revealing an expanse of smooth, white, muscular thigh. God, they were like tree trunks, so strong and stable. For a brief moment, he wondered if she was wearing underwear beneath her robe and then shook the thought away from his head. He liked to think of himself as a non-pervy guy and besides this was Tyrion’s friend. And besides again, this woman was horribly unattractive. It must be the lack of blood turning his brain.  
He pulled his gaze upwards, over the deep blue dressing gown, which he suddenly realised was spattered with his blood, to her face.  
She was bent over his hand, an expression of calm focus on her ugly face as she methodically wrapped the bandage tight around his wrist. He noticed then that her eyes were the exact same shade as her robe. They were rather a pretty colour. In fact, he reflected, they were rather pretty eyes. He’d never noticed before. But then, he’d never paid her as close attention as this before.  
As though roused by his gaze, she looked up. Jaime, realising he was staring, blurted out “Sorry, I seem to have ruined your dressing gown.”  
“It’ll wash. It’s the sitting room carpet I’m more worried about. That’s going to be a bitch to get out.”  
“I’ll clean it…”  
“Yeah right, you’ll just start bleeding again and that’s the last thing we need. Ok, I think you’re good. Stay here and I’ll bring you some clothes to change into so we can get you out of these bloody things.”  
“Anything to sneak a peek, eh?”  
“What?” Brienne recoiled aghast, and blinked at him, looking rather offended that he would ever consider her dishonourable enough to perv over him in any state, let alone one where he was so vulnerable.  
“Relax, wench, it was a joke. Geez, you really don’t have a sense of humour.”  
She narrowed her eyes at him and left.  
He felt oddly guilty. He was used to teasing her and by and large she put up with it, but he guessed he had gone a step too far.  
Brienne returned with a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a t-shirt and a towel over one arm and a basin of warm soapy water and a sponge in the other.  
“I think the blood has soaked through your clothes. You might want to sponge yourself down a little too. I’ll leave you in here,” and she headed into the sitting room.  
He managed to pull his jacket off, but It was a struggle, removing his t-shirt with one hand. It caught going over his chin and he felt the sticky dampness of the blood rubbing his face. He really could do with some help.  
“Er, Brienne? Look, I’m sorry about what I said, I don’t think you’re a perv, we both know you’re not, can you just come and help me.”  
Silence from the living room.  
“Please?”  
A theatrical sigh, footsteps and then her hands were at the hem of his t-shirt, which was by now underneath his armpits and he felt her fingertips brush his sides where he was normally ticklish and sensitive. Curiously, her touch left him with goosebumps but no giggles.  
“You want help with your trousers, too?”  
Gods, this was embarrassing. He nodded meekly.  
“Alright, get up for me.”  
No sooner had she said it that she realised the innuendo and flushed bright scarlet. Jaime smirked at her and she glared at him.  
“It’s ok, it’s ok, I know you just mean stand up.”  
Somewhat mollified she said “But slowly ok, I don’t want you to pass out.”  
Gingerly, Jaime got to his feet as he held onto the kitchen counter. Brienne knelt in front of him, long fingers undoing his belt. She went to unbutton them and paused and looked up at him, frowning. Seeing her in that position - kneeling, hands at his waist - triggered….something...and suddenly he had to focus very hard to stop his cock twitching under her hand.  
“You’re not commando, are you?”  
She looked so worried, he had to laugh.  
“No, wench, not commando.”  
She quickly made short work of his jeans, helping him step out of them, spread the towel over the floor and made him stand on it, then grabbed the sponge, wrung it out and started dabbing the sticky, drying blood from his body. Once done, she held out a pair of flannel pyjama pants out for him to step into, then asked him to raise his arms as she pulled the t-shirt down over his head. It made him feel like a child. It was weird. A little bit humiliating, but also safe. Cared for. Which was ironic, given the stony expression on Brienne’s face as she performed all these actions. It made him sad. He wanted to make her smile. He cleared his throat awkwardly as she bundled up his clothes and the towel.  
“Erm, thanks. I appreciate it, you know.”  
She gave him the barest of nods. It wasn’t enough.  
“You know, you could do this professionally. Being a nurse.. You’re big enough you could manage any patient!”  
He’d intended for her to laugh but the joke had clearly missed his mark as Brienne rolled her eyes at him.  
“You’d better go and sit down,” was all she said, indicating the couch, through the open doorway into the next room.  
Not knowing what else to do, he did as he was told. It did feel good to lean his head back against the sofa. He drew a breath and heard how shaky it sounded. Now that he was all cleaned and bandaged up, it started to dawn on him firstly that he had an injury that should really be treated in hospital and yet he couldn’t go to hospital and secondly, that he couldn’t go anywhere. Then thirdly, that Tyrion would probably try to make his way home and that he absolutely couldn’t risk going past the lunatics who had shot him.  
He leapt off the couch so quickly his head spun and launched himself towards the kitchen where Brienne was methodically emptying the pockets of his jacket. His phone was already lying on the kitchen counter and he grabbed for it with his right hand before realising he couldn’t pick it up. It would have fallen to the floor, were it not for Brienne’s quick reflexes.  
“What the hell-?”  
“Tyrion! We have to let him know!”  
At that, Brienne softened.  
“Relax. I had a message from him, saying he was staying put. I saw it when I went to get clothes for you.” She handed him his phone.  
“Oh...well, that’s good.”  
“Seems like he was very happy where he was and 2 weeks in lock down with Shae sounded more like a blessing to him than anything else,” she commented drily.  
Jaime smirked. “Trust him.”  
Brienne dumped Jaime’s clothes in the sink and started running cold water.  
“So…”  
“So?”  
She turned to face him.  
“You’re going to have to stay here. Aren’t you.”  
It wasn’t a question.  
It was going to be a long two weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime discovers an unwelcome piece of information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while and this is a short chapter. I'm feeing a bit more inspired so there may be more of this in the coming weeks!

Brienne stalked past Jaime sitting on the couch, past the blood on the sitting room carpet and into the bathroom where she quickly stripped off and took a speedy shower, sluicing off Jaime’s blood that was drying on her hands and smelled like iron. She felt cold. Her mind was reeling from the unexpected events in the night but for some reason, she was preoccupied with cleaning the blood from her and Jaime’s clothes and the carpet.   
Ok, so after I’ve showered, I’ll dump my dressing gown in the bath with some cold water, then I’ll put on a pair of pyjamas, then I’ll google the best way to get blood out of a carpet, spray cold water on it perhaps? But then it’s not like you can rinse it out…

Somewhere in the dim recesses of her brain, she realised that this was displacement activity but it felt good to have something to hold onto. Cleaning out blood stains - this was something she could definitely do. 

She stood for a while under the hot water, gradually warming up and feeling her muscles relax. When she exited the bathroom after starting to soak her dressing gown, it was steamy. She scurried into her room, just wrapped in a towel and put on a pair of blue flannel pyjama bottoms and an old King’s Landing University t-shirt.   
She went back out into the living room to find Jaime awkwardly using his phone with his left hand. He looked tired and uncomfortable hanging out in her living room without either her or Tyrion around. Even though she disliked him, she felt sorry for him. He hadn’t chosen this. She cleared her throat awkwardly.  
“So, um, as you’ll be staying a while, I guess, um, well, Tyrion’s room is free obviously, so you know, no need to sleep on the couch…”  
Many a time, Brienne had wandered in on a Sunday morning to be confronted with a loudly snoring Jaime, feet sticking off the end of the sofa after the brothers had had a particularly wild night.  
“And well, I know we don’t like each other much, but -”  
“I never said I didn’t like you.”  
“What?”  
Jaime, looking confused, put his phone down.  
“I never said I didn’t like you.”  
“But -” Brienne searched her memory and realised that, in fact, this was true.  
“Well -” she tried again. “You’re always taking the piss and saying I have no sense of humour and stuff like that. I suppose you don’t consider that maybe you’re just not that funny.”  
“I don’t dislike you, Brienne. I enjoy teasing you. Your rise to it so easily,” he chuckled. “It would appear that you don’t like me though,” he added drily.  
Brienne flushed with shame. This was almost as bad as the reverse happening - saying you like someone, only for them to say they don’t like you back. Ok, maybe not quite. Nothing was ever as humiliating as that, she reflected, as she cast her mind back to the one time that exact thing had happened while she was at university.  
“Ok, well - that doesn’t matter,” she ploughed on, thinking it better to try and gloss over the matter. “What I was going to say was that, um, this is your home for the next two weeks as much as mine. Um and also that we do have food. I think there is just enough for us both. I got enough to feed both me and Tyrion. But I think you eat more than him, so we’re probably going to have to ration a bit.”  
“Didn’t Tyrion go shopping as well?”  
“He did but by the time he got there, the shops were out of everything useful and he ended up coming back with coffee, red wine and chocolate.”  
‘“I don’t know that I would say he didn’t come back with anything useful, wench...I could definitely use a bottle of red right now.”  
“You can’t have alcohol after losing that much blood!”  
“It’s medicinal!”  
“Whatever, I’m not giving you any tonight. Besides, you look shattered. You should really go to bed.”  
For a second, he looked like he would rebel but it seemed like he realised he really was exhausted because instead he backed down and heaved himself off the sofa and in the direction of the bathroom.  
“Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

****

Jaime was awake. Although woozy and tired from the blood loss, the throbbing from the wound in his hand was not conducive to drifting off into sweet dreams. He could hear Brienne moving around in the sitting room, seeing to the blood stained carpet. After a while he heard the TV going on and the muffled theme song for Flea Bottom 99 filtered through into the bedroom. Well, Jaime could do with a laugh. He thought about getting out of bed and joining her in the living room to watch the comedy cop show and was on the verge of getting out of bed when something stopped him.

She didn’t like him.

He’d never really considered the possibility before. Always assumed that she did. Sure, she was never particularly effusive when she met him and often seemed a bit...put out, but that was just her personality, wasn’t it? And besides, why on Earth wouldn’t she like him? She was Tyrion’s friend and he was Tyrion’s brother, so didn’t that make them friends too? And he always made sure to include her in the conversation when she was around, and their banter was fuuun! And he had given her a nickname! You only gave nicknames to people you liked. 

It niggled at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. Jaime liked to be liked and most people did like him. He was attractive, it was impossible for him not to know that. Charming too. He had the easy gift of making people feel special. And of course he was funny - wait, was he though? Well, other people laughed at his jokes. Were they just pretending? Surely not. Though, to be fair, most of the other people he had ‘banter’ with, he’d known for years and they gave back as good as they got. But Brienne didn’t casually insult him like most of his mates did. Come to think of it, most of his other mates were guys who all dissed each other. But come on, Brienne played rugby! Wasn’t she one of the lads as well?

Maybe not. It dawned on him that maybe liking each other as people is a prerequisite to being able to mock each other and if she didn’t like him, then maybe his banter just seemed like...cruel taunts? He shifted uneasily, feeling uncomfortable. It was not a good feeling, so he quashed it. Of course everyone else liked him! Brienne was just a boring stick in the mud, that was it. He turned over energetically, banging his wounded hand in the process. Damn!


End file.
